Moon River
by Rhiannon A. Christy
Summary: Two lonely souls meet by chance in an apartment building in New York... Molly Hooper is a struggling writer looking for inspiration for her next book. She moves to a new apartment, only to find she was given the wrong key. She buzzes one of her new neighbors, a Sherlock Holmes, and finds herself mixed up with the eccentric Consulting Detective. Breakfast at Tiffany's AU


Molly dragged her suitcases up the steps wishing she hadn't tried to carry them all at once. This was a problem with her, as she always seemed to forget her limits. Still, she was already a flight up and there was no sense in stopping now.

She spied an open door on the next landing, a single flash of white showing from inside. She was sure it had to be the neighbor she buzzed, and she realized she should probably apologize for inconveniencing them.

"Sorry to bother you, it seems they sent me the wrong key." Molly made the last couple of steps and dropped her bags where she stood. She looked up at the door and almost lost her footing.

Her new neighbor was a tall man with a head full of tussled dark curls. He stood in the doorway in nothing but a bed sheet carelessly wrapped around his nude form.

"I'm not sure what that has to do with waking me." The man shifted in the doorway, his sheet slipping down until Molly could just make out the sharpness of his hip bone.

"Yes, well I needed to get in some way. Your's was the first name I saw." Molly blushed, but soon felt her cheeks deepen for another reason. The man gave a flippant sort of wave and turned to head back in his apartment.

"If I could trouble you for one more thing?" Molly waited for a reply, but nothing was forthcoming. Instead Mr. Holmes went back inside but left the door open. Taking this as invitation, she entered inside.

The apartment was nothing like she had pictured. Not that she had much time to ruminate on the kind of home this man would live in. But it was far from the kind of place she would have thought to find in America. It was dark, the walls covered with reprints of old Victorian wallpapers. The place looked less like someone lived there and more like an antique store with the piles of old books toppling everywhere and the various Victorian items.

Mr. Holmes slipped into the small kitchen off to the side, rummaged around in his fridge until he found some tidbit from a leftover meal and started to eat.

"If you are going to inconvenience me further, you could at least explain to me why."

"Oh! Sorry." Molly brought her attention from the huge expanse of exposed male flesh and to his eyes instead. "On the way here I lost my mobile, and I was wondering if I could use your phone. I would like to get things straightened out with my key."

"Phone's over there..." Mr. Holmes pointed to a stack of books holding an old, moldy looking suitcase. His brows curled downward for a moment and he stomped over to where he had been indicating. After a moment he opened the case and pulled out a mobile. "Forgot, I put it in there. People were getting annoying."

Molly ignored the comment and took the phone from his hand. He didn't acknowledge her, only went back to his kitchen.

"Thank you. This probably wouldn't have happened if everything had gone to plan. You see, I was supposed to be here yesterday but my flight had been delayed. Mrs. Hudson left me the key hidden under a flower pot downstairs as she said she wouldn't be here to meet me on Thursday." When Molly got nervous she found that she rambled. Most people told her to shut up or completely ignored her. Mr. Holmes on the other hand jolted and ran to his laptop in a hurry.

"It can't be Thursday!" he clicked away a couple of times until he reached his calendar. "How perfectly horrid!"

Mobile forgotten, Molly watched as the man dashed about the apartment gathering up this and that.

"What is so horrid about Thursday?"

"Nothing beyond I always forget when it is." He rushed into a room Molly figured was his bed room, his voice carrying back. "While you are here you might as well make yourself useful."

She shook her head but followed into the room. In contrast to the rest of the apartment, his bedroom contained only a queen sized bed and wardrobe. Though the most shocking thing in the room was the man himself. He stood at a mirror sans sheet, combing out his hair.

"The black suit, purple shirt." He didn't look back at Molly, only pointed vaguely at the wardrobe and continued to fix himself up.

Not knowing what else to do Molly gathered the requested clothing and watched as the man made himself presentable.

"Is there something special about Thursday?"

"I have an appointment in Sing-Sing. Client swears he is innocent of the murder of his wife, blames his brother. He hired me to prove it."

Molly blinked and sat down on the edge of the bed as he slipped on his pants.

"Is he? innocent I mean?"

"Of course not! He has been planning her murder since they got married. She was worth millions." Mr. Holmes worked quickly to button up his trousers and shirt.

"Then why are you visiting him?"

"His brother hired me. He believes his brother has been having an affair with his wife."

"I'm afraid to ask, has he?" Molly licked her lips as he slipped his suit jacket on. he was beautiful nude, but in a suit he was sinful.

"Oh yes, she helped him kill his wife. By the end of today she'll be behind bars as well." Mr. Holmes smiled and rushed from his room.

When Molly returned to the sitting room it was to find the man slipping on a large coat.

"Do lock the door behind you. That's a girl." He winked at her and was gone.

Molly stood in the middle of her neighbor's apartment, mobile in hand, wondering what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

I have no idea, this was just supposed to be a quick drabble idea thing. I just did Breakfast at Tiffany's in my book to film class and this idea popped into my head. I have no idea if I will do anything more with it, but enjoy Sherlock in a sheet.


End file.
